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Messing…For Those Who Know!

I’m not sure where I learnt how to mess because it wasn’t something we did at home or at my primary school. All I know is that somewhere between my front door and the school gates, someone taught me. It was a game of sorts where you and your opponent would trade messes a.k.a. insults. The winner was the person who delivered the most messes that ‘entered.’ My opponent was usually my friend Dockus and our messing always ended in World War III. Our parents were friends and we lived 5 minutes apart so we saw a lot of each other. He was one of my best friends and my guaranteed play mate but there was no way we could be in the same space for more than ten minutes without fighting. He was a lot bigger than I was but I was the David to his Goliath…he defeated everyone else but he never defeated me.

MEE to Dockus: Let’s mess each other.

Dockus: Okay, you start.

MEE: You shit two shit two of them resemble you.

Dockus: With your tun tun belle like seven o’clock news.

MEE: With you four corner head like Agege bread.

Dockus: You mess all the fishes for river Niger say are we safe?!

MEE: You mess four akara form voltron.

Dockus: Erm, erm…

MEE: I’m not playing again jo, you’re too slow.

Dockus: No now, let’s play. Or are you afraid?

MEE: Afraid of what? Hiss. With your black nyash like devil bible.

Dockus: Ha ha, I’m light so my nyash cannnot black.

MEE:Ode, who told you that it has to make sense? Instead of you to say you don’t know what to say you’re talking nonsense. Kuli kuli attack your village,nobody survive. Mess your own back now let me hear you!

A lot as he came to discover when I beat him to a pulp. It took the joint efforts of Aunts A and P to drag me off him. I was ready to send him to his grave. Nobody insulted my punk and got away with it, NO ONE!!!